Snow howled through the jagged peaks of northern Iran. The wind cut like a blade, scattering icy dust across the cliffs where two figures stood—Lacolone and Walid—facing each other across a vast frozen expanse. The air itself trembled between them, as if the mountains knew what was about to begin.
Lacolone cracked his knuckles, faint energy spikes flickering around his hands. His aura shimmered like a restless storm. Across from him, Walid stood unmoving, his own aura so immense it warped the snowfall into spiraling halos. Watching from a nearby ridge, Maya crouched low, her device flickering as it tracked both warriors' movements. Farther up the slope, Valgor leaned casually against a boulder, a grin playing across his face. The trial had begun.
Jessica raised one gloved hand into the air—a silent signal. The wind stopped. The world seemed to hold its breath. Lacolone's aura pulsed in time with his heartbeat as he exhaled once, slowly, grounding himself. Walid's eyes half-closed. The snow beneath his feet rippled outward like water disturbed by a stone. Even the mountain seemed to bow to his presence. Maya's fingers tightened around her device. Her pulse raced. She had seen battles before—but nothing like this. The calm before the storm was unbearable.
Then Lacolone moved. A streak of light tore through the snow as he dashed forward, his trail slicing the air like a comet. The snow whipped into chaotic spirals. Walid only tilted his head, almost lazily, as the attack came. Valgor chuckled softly, his breath visible in the freezing air. The first clash detonated like thunder. Aura met aura—energy collided with energy—and the world itself seemed to quiver from the impact.
Lacolone's energy blade howled as he swung, but Walid slipped aside with effortless grace. The blow tore through solid rock, sending shards and snow flying. The counter-force slammed Lacolone into a cliff, the impact echoing through the valley. Walid didn't move to follow. His aura pulsed quietly—controlled, unreadable. He was already calculating the next strike. Maya bit her lip, torn between awe and fear. One exchange, and already the line between human and god blurred.
Lacolone rose from the rubble, his body surrounded by flickering energy. Dozens of spectral versions of himself appeared around him, their motions blurring in synchronization. They struck from every direction. Walid barely blinked. Each phantom attack warped mid-air, distorted by temporal ripples radiating from him. Rocks levitated around him, slicing the air like blades as his counter-pressure broke Lacolone's rhythm. But Lacolone was far from finished. He shifted tactics—sending energy spikes erupting from beneath the snow, catching Walid off-guard for half a heartbeat. Walid smiled faintly. He was enjoying this.
Without warning, Walid drew the Sword of Salahuddin. The blade shone with ancient brilliance, cutting through the air with divine precision. He fired a series of perfect gunshots at the same time, each bullet bending space itself as it flew. Lacolone barely dodged—each near miss rippling his aura. When the sword and bullets met the frozen ground, reality folded and cracked, leaving trails of distorted air. Even the elements refused to stay normal around Walid.
The battlefield devolved into chaos. Walid swung once, and an entire cliff sheared away, boulders flying like meteors. Lacolone answered with explosive bursts of power, carving glowing trenches through the snow to deflect the debris. The wind became a weapon, ripping through the field in roaring cyclones. Maya tracked both figures with trembling eyes, calculating escape routes, her device screaming warnings. Valgor, however, was exhilarated. "Magnificent," he muttered. "Absolutely magnificent."
Lacolone vanished, reappearing in bursts of speed—short-range teleportations that left afterimages in his wake. Each strike came faster, sharper, more desperate. Walid pivoted effortlessly, dodging with calm precision. The snow cracked under every step Lacolone took, each movement leaving impact scars across the plateau. Maya's face paled. He was giving everything… and still, it wasn't enough.
Walid lifted his sword with both hands and swung. The air screamed. An energy arc so massive it split an entire mountain in two ripped across the horizon. Lacolone barely managed to leap aside as a wall of debris fell behind him. The blade's aura distorted time itself—creating illusionary copies of the same swing. Maya froze, her eyes wide. Valgor only laughed, enthralled by the chaos. This was no longer a fight. It was creation and destruction at once.
Lacolone charged again, gathering the raw energy of the environment around him. The snow melted where he ran. Walid met him head-on, a single swing colliding with Lacolone's full power. The impact shattered the air. Three mountain peaks cracked under the pressure. Maya shielded herself as the shockwave hit, her cloak whipping violently. Every strike they exchanged could have ended nations.
Lacolone screamed and unleashed a storm of techniques, blending his aura with fragments of other powers—each spiraling like a phantom from his soul. Walid countered with grace, using spiritual resonance to deflect every incoming surge. The mountains around them disintegrated into glowing dust. Valgor's voice carried faintly over the wind. "Beautiful chaos," he whispered. This wasn't war—it was art.
Then came the Apex Strike. Walid thrust the sword forward, and time itself seemed to bend away from the blade. The shockwave caught Lacolone mid-motion, slamming him across the plateau. The snow beneath him vaporized from the sheer friction. Maya screamed his name, eyes wide, as the world shook. Precision. Lethality. Mastery beyond comprehension.
Somehow, Lacolone rose again. His aura, once golden, now flared black and blue—pulsing with a dark, raw determination. He staggered, but refused to fall. Walid hovered slightly above the ground, observing. His expression remained calm, unreadable. From a nearby ridge, Maya clenched her device, whispering words of hope only the wind could hear. Even Valgor leaned forward, fascinated by this display of pure will. Resolve burned brighter than pain.
The mountains trembled as Walid gathered energy. The very earth seemed to bow beneath him. Lacolone steadied himself, preparing for one last stand. Maya could hardly breathe. Valgor's grin widened; the finale was coming. The air thickened with divine pressure.
When Walid finally swung, the world went white. A colossal energy wave split the plateau in two, carving through stone like paper. Lacolone tried to counter but was swallowed by the explosion. His aura shattered; the mountains cracked and roared in agony. Maya threw her arms over her face, calling out his name. Valgor laughed—a sound of awe more than mockery. Even gods would kneel before such mastery.
When the storm settled, Lacolone lay motionless in the snow, his energy fading. Walid stood tall, aura stabilizing into calm light. His expression carried no pride—only cold control. Maya ran to Lacolone's side, falling to her knees. Valgor watched from afar, silently impressed. The lesson had been brutal, but precise—no wasted motion, no mercy.
Walid finally spoke. His voice was steady, commanding. "Learn this, Lacolone. Mastery is everything." Lacolone's faint aura flickered as he absorbed the words, too weak to answer. Maya nodded silently beside him, understanding. Valgor smiled knowingly. Jessica, standing behind them, said nothing—just watched with quiet reverence. Defeat could be a seed if the will to rise again survived.
The snow began to fall softly once more. Walid stood upon the broken plateau, his aura fading into stillness. Lacolone sat up slowly, pain written across his face, but determination shining in his eyes. Maya's fists clenched; Valgor's grin returned. The air hung heavy with silent understanding. The mountains had witnessed the power of the apex—and the lesson that would shape the battles yet to come.